Where mental illness is an asset

So I did a thing…

If you read my posts over the spring and summer, you know that I struggled with my third trip into the dregs of a major depression. I felt like this was by far the worst one because instead of just feeling like I was worthless and hopeless and without value, I felt like life itself had no value.

All life seemed pointless. I mean, why? Just why? Why get out of bed and do the things and be stressed and miserable and get back into bed just to do it all over again the next day? Until death?

Nothing made sense.

And always, when I have started down this path of despair before, I have been able to drag and scratch myself back up by looking at my kids and realizing that I absolutely HAD to survive so I could be there for them. No matter what was going on, no matter what lies my brain was trying to tell me, I held firm to the knowledge that my presence in my kids’ lives was vital.

But this spring, that belief blew away like the seeds of a dandelion.

And in its place grew guilt.

Guilt that I had brought two beautiful human beings into this world to face the same treacherous journey. To exist in a state of nothingness surrounded by horrible people and horrible circumstances. To struggle and strive and get knocked down and hate me for causing it.

I was so completely and hopelessly lost in the darkness. And there wasn’t even a glimmer of light.

Eventually, as you know, I got help and changed meds and worked and pushed and took every hand held out to me to pull me out of shadow.

And I feel well. Really well.

But I don’t ever want to get that far down again.

So I decided that if my brain can lie about the two reasons I do everything in my life and tell me that even they don’t matter, then I need a more permanent reminder.

I don’t wear a lot of jewelry, and I wanted it where I could see it every day, at every angle. It is with me when I circle my arms around them, and it will be with me when they have families of their own.